No Place for Heroes Read Online Free PDF

him. “What are we, heroes or buffoons?” The question was her papa’s. Anytime that he had to take a risk he’d said it aloud: Heroes or buffoons?
    “I’d rather be a buffoon,” Mateo said. “The heroes can all go to hell.”
    “Then I’ll call. Just to confirm that it’s his number,” she proposed. But he screamed no, not to do it.
    “Don’t stick your nose in this, Mother. I have to take care of this on my own, by myself.” He grabbed the phone from her, but immediately settled down and handed it back. “Fine, call, Lolé. But I forbid you from saying anything. Just see if it’s his voice and hang up right away.”
    She promised that she wouldn’t say anything, that he had nothing to worry about, she knew that the words had to come from him, from Mateo, and only him. Then she dialed the number and let it ring a few times, as he obsessively twisted the lock of hair that fell over his brow with his index finger, like he always did when he was nervous.
    “No one picks up?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Maybe Ramón doesn’t live there anymore,” Mateo said, and she realized how badly he was tormented by doubt.“Maybe he leaves early for work and doesn’t come back till late at night.”
    “We won’t know unless we call,” his mother said, and waited until a machine picked up, the recording asking for the caller to leave a message because there was no one home at the moment. She listened to the voice and hung up without leaving a message, just as they had agreed.
    “It’s him,” she told him. “It’s your father’s voice.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Of course I’m sure.”
    “Did he say his name? Did the voice say that it was Ramón Iribarren?”
    “No, not in so many words, all it said was, I am not here to take your call, or something like that. But I know it was him.”
    “Well, at least we know that he is alive. That’s something, right? Unless, of course, he died after he recorded the message, but no, no, that would be too Gothic. And what exactly did he say: I am not here to take your call, or we are not here? You have to remember, Lorenza.” Mateo grew impatient when she claimed that she couldn’t really remember, and he shot her an angry glare.
    “You’re right, wait a second, let me think,” she responded. “But don’t give me that murderous look.”
    “So just tell me then. It’s very important. If Ramón said, I am not here, then he could live alone. But if he said, we are not here, then he probably has kids, another wife. Do you think that he would speak to his other children about me?”
    “If you want, I’ll call him.”
    “That’s not the point … with that expression.”
    “What expression?”
    “No expression at all, that’s the problem. How many years has it been since you heard Ramón’s voice? And now you hear it, and it’s like nothing, and you answer my questions like a robot. I don’t even know if you still love Ramón or despise him.”
    “I neither love him nor despise him. I keep him in mind.”
    “I know, so he can never harm me again. Yet you do me more harm, robot face,” Mateo said, with an affectionate nudge to his mother’s chin that landed a little too rough. He began to shadowbox around the room like Muhammad Ali, dancing like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. “Shit, fuck, shit,” he chanted, throwing jabs and uppercuts in the air. “Are you sure, Lorenza?”
    “Of what?”
    “That it was his voice.”
    “I could pick it out from a million other voices, that muffled and guttural voice was his. Besides, it’s almost exactly like yours, Mateo. You both mumble and speak so low that one can barely understand what you are saying.”
    “So you’re saying that his voice hasn’t changed at all.”
    “Not at all, not even a little bit. It’s exactly the same voice of the young man I knew. Yours, on the other hand, changes day by day, and there are times now when you sound just like him.”
    “I don’t think so,” Mateo said,